


The colours of fall make everything so lovely

by Colourspaz, VenetaPsi



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Halloween, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Proposals, Pumpkin carving, Short Stories, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 00:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21290675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colourspaz/pseuds/Colourspaz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/VenetaPsi/pseuds/VenetaPsi
Summary: Four short stories about four different Halloweens
Relationships: Brian | The Gaming Terroriser/Daithi De Nogla, Evan Fong/John | KryozGaming, John | KryozGaming/SMii7Y, SMii7Y/Tyler | I AM WILDCAT
Comments: 13
Kudos: 85





	1. Daithirizer

**Author's Note:**

> Brian/Daithi and SMii7Y/Tyler were written by VenetaPsi  
John/Evan and John/Smii7y were written by colourspaz

“Sorry if I woke you.”

A soft voice carried over the dark air, and David studied the ceiling curiously, blinking the tired haze away from his eyes and counting the pattern of cobwebs in the upper corner of his room. 

“...you’re good,” He responded; slowly, sleepily and a bit too late, and gentle, apologetic laughter sounded in his ears. 

“I forget how late it is for you,” Brian murmured, and David’s fingers twisted in his covers absentmindedly before he rolled over with a mild grunt, staring at his laptop and squishing his cheek into the mattress. 

“I don’t mind,” He reassured, warm and tired and just hearing his friend’s voice over Discord made him smile lightly. “Did you get trick-o-treaters?” 

“Yeah!” Brian replied, voice slightly more enthused, and the energy rolled over David softly, helped awaken him. “We managed to deplete our entire supply of candy.” 

“Did you dress up?” He asked, sitting up and stretching, and he grinned at the predicted anguished sigh Brian gave him, exasperation echoing through his laptop speaker. 

“No, Nogla, I did not dress up, and you’ve never failed to give me shit for it.” 

“Dressing up is-” David yawned, rolled his shoulders and climbed out of bed, momentarily losing his train of thought as he fiddled with his untied sweatpants string. “Whazzat? Oh yeah, dressing up. It’s what you’re supposed to do, bro.” 

Brian warm huff of laughter seemed to fill the small room. 

“Anyways,” David continued, hiding a smile behind both his hand and a second yawn, “What’re you doing now? What am I doing? Oh yeah, I wanted- wanted something to drink or somethin’...” He trailed off sleepily, staring off into space for a second before snapping back to reality and reaching for the laptop. 

“You sure you’re alright man?” Brian laughed, though an edge had slipped into his voice; mild concern. “Hey, I really didn’t mean to wake you-”

“Brian, bro, chiiill,” David drawled, waiting for the light burst of laughter that sounded before continuing, settling the laptop in the crook of his arm as he headed towards the kitchen. “I don’t mind. Hey- no, stop it. I don’t mind.” 

The sleepy, dark-haired man could hear the sheepish giggle in the Irishman’s voice when Brian obediently cut himself off, and David could picture his friend rolling his eyes. 

Flicking the light switch, David set the laptop down on the kitchen island and turned towards the counter, reaching instinctively for the upper cabinet where his mugs were stored. Brian was quiet, and the house was quiet too, and the gentle humming that rose from David’s throat to fill the silence was natural and unmeant. 

The only acknowledgment Brian have him was a soft huff, that gentle exhale David knew meant fondness, and the room rested in a companinable lull as the taller dropped a tea bag into his mug and plugging in his tea kettle, an abstract, improvised tune falling lightly from his lips. 

“Did you buy any candy?” Brian asked, sudden in the stillness, and David leaned a hip against the counter and watched the water boil idly, watched the lights on the electric kettle flicker. 

“Nah,” He responded after a second. “There’s not many kids in my neighbourhood.”

“...you could’ve bought some for yourself,” Brian continued after another beat of silence and David got the strange feeling the other was trying to make a point. 

“What, are you worried about me?” He laughed, even though Brian hadn’t sounded like he’d been joking, and twisted to give the laptop a look, despite the camera being off. “I assure you, my health will not suffer from the absence of an entire bag of candy.”

“Not what I meant,” Brian reprimanded, but he was laughing softly. The kettle beeped, a flash of blue light, and David reached out to pull it off the burner and tip the clear liquid into his mug, watching the steam billow and the tea turn the water a dark, reddish-brown. 

The mug was warm, hot to the touch almost in David’s hand, and Brian stayed quiet as David unplugged the kettle and repositioned himself on a stool at the island, resting his drink on the countertop before him. His gaze flickered across the room; the orange lights hanging by the window and the collection of multi-colored squash and vibrant leaves clustered in the center of the island, ringed by small, unlit spiced candles. The house was very still, almost to the point where David felt he could feel it deep in his chest; the vibrating hum of sleep deprivation and calmness mixed together. 

“Hey…” Brian said softly, tone matching the quiet atmosphere, and David frowned because he sounded uncertain. “How are you holding up?” 

For a moment there was silence, and then David twisted to gaze at the laptop in curiosity, mildly concerned. 

“What? Where is this coming from?” 

Brian didn’t answer, the silence like a cloud. 

“...I’m fine, I guess. Brian?” David pushed hesitantly, setting his mug down with a gentle ‘clink’ and giving the electronic his full attention. “Brian, what's going on, man.”

“I… don’t know,” the Irishman softly replied, voice hushed and a jolt of cold ice washed down David’s spine, sudden and crystallizing and his fingers felt numb against his burning cup. 

“...Okay. Okay, that’s alright,” David said quietly, voice unsure, because shit, he’d never hear Brian speak like that, because he sounded _haunted._ He racked his brain nervously, blurting the first clutches of mental health management he could think of. “Where are you right now?” 

“In my room, at my computer,” Brian responded, slightly too slow and now that David was listening, really looking, he could hear the brittleness in that tone. 

“Okay. I'm gonna- um, I’m sitting in the kitchen. Are you able to switch to your phone and go into the kitchen?” David pressured gently, stumbling on the unfamiliar territory. 

“Yeah, I can- I can do that,” the other coughed, and there was a sudden burst of static as headphones disconnected. David bit his lip nervously in the momentary silence, pressure sitting heavy in his chest. Another burst of noise and then the sound of swishing fabric and rustling and footsteps filled David’s ears, and he released a breath he hadn't quite realized he was holding. 

He waited patiently until the background noise settled down, and he could picture Brian sitting as his dining room table, imagined his posture when the man sighed deeply, the sound washing over David’s ears. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked softly, after a second, and Brian took another deep breath before letting it out slowly and answering. 

“I am…” A strangled laugh echoed over the call and David’s heart ached. “I am _very_ overwhelmed.” The squeal of chair legs on linoleum filled the air and the slight clatter of a tin followed. “Sorry, I’m um, making tea. I heard yours before and it sounded nice.” 

“It’s no problem,” David responded softly, relieved Brian’s voice was returning to some semblance of normal, no longer sounded as fractured and delicate as it had a second ago. “What type of tea?” 

A hum filled the air as Brian’s movement paused, and then a second later a static huff of laughter reached David’s ears. 

“It’s ‘Pumpkin Spice’ apparently. Some fall themed thing.” 

“Fitting,” David laughed, and his pulse finally settled back to a normal, relaxed pace when Brian chuckled back, voice sure and strong. The taller’s hands slipped back around his temporarily forgotten mug, fingers seeking out the heat that had dulled to a gentle warmth, perfect for drinking when he brought it to his lips. 

There was a lull in conversation, though not an uncomfortable one, and David could hear the sounds of Brian making tea on the other side of the screen. Finger tapping idly on the handle of his mug, he thought of the sharp mint flavor of his own tea mixed with the spicy scent of Brian’s, and a flutter of nostalgia sparked in his belly; memories of fall and visits and laughing while it rained outdoors. 

A beat of silence, then an inhale, as though Brian was going to speak and cut himself off caught David’s attention, and he frowned at the laptop once more, concern rushing back. 

“What?”

“Oh,” Brian huffed sheepishly, clearly not having expected his hesitancy to be noticed. The clatter of a spoon into a sink, and then ceramic settling against marble. “Are we...are we friends?” 

For a second David balked, confused, because wasn’t that answer obvious? Of course they were friends. They’d been friends for years. He paused to keep himself from saying something impulsive and considered the question. 

“...why do you ask?” He finally voiced, not unkindly, and Brian sighed; clearly both aggrivated and relieved, and David bit his lip because Brian was in a fragile mood and he didn’t want to fuck this up, whatever this was. 

“David, why are you single?” 

The silence that followed the oxymoron was sudden and fierce, and David felt a flash of defensiveness and frustration pierce through him before he took a deep breath and set his mug down, confused and unsettled by the direction of the conversation. 

“I’m single because I broke up with my girlfriend a long time ago, and because I haven’t found someone else who both wants to be with me, and who I’d want to date.” He replied, deadpan and wondering if he was misunderstanding something. “Why?” 

“Someone?” Brian asked quietly, and now David was really confused. 

“Yes?” He responded, aggravation slipping into his tone despite his best effort. “Generally that’s who men date, other ‘someones’. I am in fact, a man, and I date ‘someones’.”

“...not just girls?” Brian mumbled, and oh, _oh._

David’s mouth shut with a click, and he reworked his own words in his head. No, he hadn’t specified. Hadn’t defined his search as for a ‘girl’. 

“...Brian, what’s going on,” David murmured, not a question, and refusing to dance around this topic anymore. 

A moment of silence, then a soft, tired sigh. 

“David, would you ever date me?” 

“...you have a girlfriend,” Were the first words to escape from the other man’s lips, too loyal and numb and confused to say ‘yes’, unable to make himself say ‘no’. 

“Had,” Brian muttered mornfully, and all of a sudden David understood, all of a sudden Brian’s fragile mood and strange line of questioning made sense. 

“Brian, when?” He asked, sympathetic and saddened and mad at himself for not noticing sooner. Brian laughed lightly, a mug clattering down. 

“A couple months ago.” 

David nearly choked. 

“A couple mon- what? I had no-” 

“You’re fine,” Brian reassured suddenly, dismissively, as though he predicted David’s words before they escaped. “I kept it low key, didn’t tell anyone. Don’t be mad at yourself for not seeing, I didn’t want you too.” 

The conversation had left David reeling, and he took a deep inhale, trying desperately to process everything crashing down around him. 

“...did you just ask me out?” The realization finally hit him, and all of a sudden his pulse was off the radar, and David clenched a hand around the handle of his mug nervously. “Are you- hold on, what’s going on- I don’t- Brian I’m too tired for this!” 

His shock bubbled into skewed outrage, and Brian burst out laughing; loud and bright and all of the building anxiety in David’s chest evaporated at the sweet, unbridled sound. 

“It’s alright,” Brian giggled. “I kind of dropped that all on you. I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that.” David took a deep gulp of tea and stared at the laptop, feeling words on his tongue but not knowing how to express them. 

“No, I'm serious- don’t answer that right now. Yes or no, it’s fine, but sleep on it first. Or at least think on it for a while,” Brian interjected, and that sure, reasonable voice was finally perfect, finally sounded exactly as it normally did in David’s ears on an everyday basis. 

“...okay, I can do that,” David reassured, a smile settling unconsciously on his lips, and his fingers interwoven around his mug. There was another beat of silence, and then David chuckled, leaning forward to rest and elbow on the counter. 

“So what was the best costume you saw?” 

Brian laughed, and answered, voice growing more energetic and excited as he spoke, and the tense atmosphere washed away as time passed, as David grew sleepy and warm in his golden kitchen and faint glow of his laptop screen. 

Several hours later, snuggled up under his covers once more and only half awake, David thought back on the hazy night and Brian’s voice, so expressive; how he could read the other man even through a screen, how well they fit together. 

He lay in the darkness, watching rain pelt the window and wind drag golden-red leaves through the night and thought about sitting at his desk with the other man in the chair beside him, thought about seeing Brian face-to-face for the first time in the Autumn chill and having Pokemon cards shoved into his hands. 

He thought of how his last relationship had decayed because it hadn't been built on any solid, anything corporal; had been rushed. 

Swallowing around a suddenly dry mouth, David rolled over, grabbed his phone and swiped through the contents before bringing up Brian’s number, and typing a quick text. 

_yes, to your question_

With certainty, David tossed the phone onto his nightstand, buried his face in the pillow, and drifted off to sleep.


	2. Krii7y

The first thing that Smitty hears is the door opening and he feels a gust of cold air. The second thing he hears is John yelling, "I got the goods!" and he can't help but smile. 

"What'd you get?" Smitty calls, putting down the spoon he's using to scoop out pumpkin guts and heading towards the front door. He has to laugh when he sees John struggling to keep the bags of candy and jugs of cider out of reach of Octavia. Striding over, he takes the bags of candy and gives Octavia a quick pat on the head before taking the cider into the kitchen. 

"Got a bag of the 'assorted chocolates' and - Octavia, down! No, this isn't for you! - and a bag of Tootsie Pops." John answers. He follows Smitty into the kitchen, placing the bags on the table and pressing a quick kiss to Smitty's cheek before heading to the front room to put away his jacket and beanie. 

When he returns, he stops for a moment, leaning against the doorframe and watching Smitty move around the kitchen, Octavia at his heels. A fond smile graces John's face as he pushes off the doorframe and wraps his arms around Smitty's middle from behind. Smitty yelps in surprise, and wriggles around in John's grip to face him. 

"Fuck, your hands are cold!" Smitty says. John presses his face into Smitty's neck, his cold nose and cheeks making Smitty jump again. "Get your goddamn freezing face off of me, dick!" 

John pulls away with a fake pout, looking downwards. Smitty laughs and presses a quick kiss to his nose; to his cheeks. A hand makes its way up John's neck to cup his jaw, and Smitty pulls him into a warm kiss that tastes of cinnamon. 

"Love you," Smitty murmurs against John's lips. 

"Love you too."

Octavia's barking rips through the silence, ending the moment and making them both laugh. 

"What is it, girl?" Smitty asks, kneeling down to pet her. Just then, knocking comes at the door, along with a chorus of 'Trick or Treat!' 

John grabs one of the bags of candy and tears it open as he walks towards the door. Smitty can hear him greeting the trick-or-treaters with enthusiasm, complimenting costumes and laughing at something one of the kids is doing. 

Smitty smiles fondly, absentmindedly rubbing at the ring on his left hand. The door shutting again snaps him out of his thoughts, and he gets up off of the floor to start making the hot cider. 

John reenters the kitchen humming a soft tune as he finishes opening the bags of candy and pouring them into a bowl. Smitty begins pouring the jugs of cider into the pot on the stove and grabs the cinnamon and nutmeg down from the cabinet. 

"Hey, John?"

"Yeah?"

"Remind me where the ladle is? Oh, and the cups we bought over the weekend?" 

"Cups are in the cabinet under the microwave and ladle should be in the second drawer down next to the fridge." John answers, taking the bowl of candy to the front room as another knock sounds. 

"Thanks!" Smitty calls over his shoulder, opening the drawer to grab the ladle. A few minutes later, the steaming cider is ready and he grabs the cups from the cabinet, lugging it all to the front room with Octavia at his heels. 

As the night goes on, they give handfuls of candy to kids and cider to the parents and the few teens that come to their door, cold and soaked to the bone but cheerful as can be. John matches all the little kids enthusiasm perfectly, and trades snarky, entertaining remarks with the teenagers, all in good nature. Smitty watches his husband with a fond look on his face; hearts in his eyes. 

Once the pot is empty and there's no more candy in the bowl, they turn their porch light off and head back into the kitchen to clean up. 

Smitty rinses out the pot and ladle and John takes care of all of the garbage. THe whole setting is so _domestic_ that Smitty can't help the small smile that graces his face. 

"What'cha smiling about?" John asks, pressing a kiss to the back of Smitty's neck. 

"Just thinking."

"About?"

"How much I love you and how adorable it is to see you interact with kids."

John grins good-naturedly and rests his head on Smitty's shoulder. 

A calm silence stretches between them. 

Smitty breaks it by asking, "Have you ever thought about...having kids of our own?"

John lifts his head and moves his hands to Smitty's hips, looking him in the eyes. 

"The thought has passed through my mind." 

Smitty smiles and kisses him, pulling him close and cupping John's face with his hands. 

"Well. Maybe we can start looking into adoption, then." Smitty says, grinning. 

"Sounds like a plan." John replies. He pulls Smitty into another kiss, one hand on the small of Smitty's back and the other tangled in his hair. 

Later, as Smitty's about to drift to sleep, John holding him from behind and Octavia curled up on the bed in front of him, he smiles and marvels at how damn _lucky_ he is. 

He falls asleep warm,  
and comforted,  
and happy.


	3. SmiiCat

“Tyler.”

“Shut up.”

“Tyyyyler.”

“Smit- goddamn it, I’m trying to do something here!”

Pale fingers reached out and settled against equally as sun bleached skin, and Smitty leaned over the wooden table to grin at the narrowed blue eyes peering back at him. 

“Smitty,” The tall man deadpanned, voice stiff and brittle and the shorter brunette had to force a straight face at his boyfriend’s tone. “I am holding a knife. It’s sharp, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Smitty reassured, though he released Tyler’s wrist and settled back in his own dining room chair; braced his hands on the table and leaned back on two legs precariously as he surveyed the scene with only a mild wrinkle of his nose. 

The table was littered with knives, bowls, towels and spoons, each covered with their own fair share of pumpkin guts. Someone (certainly not Smitty himself, so it must’ve been Tyler) had had the good sense to lay newspapers down on the hardwood, protecting it from ruin, but gloopy, stringy substance still coated nearly every available inch of flat surface. 

The air was scented firmly with pumpkin and spice, a result of the several disemboweled squashes strewn across the table, and multiple candles lit with the goal of counteracting the reek; something Smitty had made sure to do after he’d caught his boyfriend nauseously doubled over the sink the previous year. 

The Canadian let the chair sink back down to the ground and found his gaze drawn to the man across the table from him; loose, short brown hair just long enough to be perpetually brushed out of the way, and intent focus on the gourd in his hand and the small paring knife half-sticking out of orange flesh. Tyler bit his lip in concentration, and Smitty held back the smile that always threatened to bloom when he saw the man quiet, absorbed and enraptured in the task at hand.

He could always wax a little poetic about Tyler. 

Almost like he could sense his partner’s gaze, Wildcat glanced up, a mild furrow between his brows. After a split second, his expression smoothed out, and he gave Smitty an easy smile, slow and casual and sweet and everything the world never saw.

Smitty grinned back, all cheek and teeth and Tyler shook his head before he ducked down once more, zeroing back in on his sharpie-outlined carving conquest. It was almost instinct for Smitty to pull out his phone, swipe the camera on and snap a quick picture before his boyfriend could register what had happened. 

“For instagram,” Smitty promised, and Tyler rolled his eyes and gestured dismissively towards the phone with his knife before laying it down and selecting another. 

“Yeah well, no more flashes. I’m focusing here, and you’re gonna fuck me up.” 

Smitty braced his cheek on his fist, elbow on the table and tucked his phone under the crook of his arm, grinning. He could read between the lines. 

“You look great, don’t worry.”

Tyler looked up at that and raised an eyebrow skeptically. 

“Are we stroking my ego now? You never fail to remind me that I don’t, in fact, need that.” 

“You don’t,” Smitty agreed, rising from his seat and heading around the end of the table towards the kitchen. His hand reached up to ruffle Tyler’s hair as he passed, fingers slipping through smooth brown locks in a quick, comforting gesture. “But I like to remind you anyways. You’re cute.” 

“You are the only person in the world to call me ‘cute’!” Tyler shouted after him, and the shorter, darker brunette only laughed in response.

“Highly doubt that, baby.”

“Yeah, well…” Tyler grumbled, and Smitty could hear him mumbling grouchily to himself as the Canadian opened the fridge and grabbed for a half-full pint of cider. 

“You want something to drink?” He called out, not bothering to turn around, and was already reaching for a second glass from the cabinet when the affirmative answer echoed back to him. He returned with two glasses of the sweet, orangy-brown liquid, setting one beside Tyler before retaking his position across the table. Tyler took a sip from his drink without looking and grunted a ‘thanks’ at the same time he took a particularly vicious stab at his jack-o-lantern’s eye hole. A small huff of laughter escaped Smitty’s lips, and he took a swig of cider before eyeing the counter skeptically. 

“You sure that’s going to be enough candy?” He asked, settling on the multiple bags of sugary treats on the divider between the dining room and front door. His gaze swung back to Tyler when the older snorted in amusement, and Smitty stared at him patiently for his answer. 

“Oh trust me, that’ll be enough. That’ll be too much, probably. We’re gonna have to give out handfuls or eat the leftovers.” 

“I’m sure that would be just tragic, for both us and the kids,” Smitty deadpanned, swirling his cider idly in his glass. He glanced up, startled and pleased when Tyler threw his head back and laughed, loud and clear. Then the brunet was setting his blade down and spinning his finished jack-o-lantern around for Smitty’s approval, and the Canadian was greeted with circular, wide eyes and a gap-toothed grin. 

“It’s great, babe,” He offered genuinely, and Tyler smiled down at his creation tiredly and unconsciously wiped his brow, a pleased expression settling over his features. 

“I haven’t actually put this much effort into carving a pumpkin since I was a kid,” He confessed, rising to go search the nearby drawers for a candle and lighter. Smitty watched him quietly, gaze flickering between his boyfriend and the finished halloween decoration. 

“Oh yeah?” He prompted, when no continuation was offered, and Tyler’s head poked around from behind the wall divider with a grin before disappearing again. 

“Yeah!” Tyler called back, voice echoing slightly. “The squirrels always ate them, or the dogs did, so I kind of gave up.” A pause, then a second later. “Did you let the dogs out?” 

“Yeah, they’re still out back, I think.” Smitty responded, automatically setting his drink down and heading in the direction of the sliding backdoors. “They refused to come in before.” 

“It’s getting cold though!” Tyler shouted, and Smitty smiled lightly as his hand settled on the smooth knob of the porch door, warmed by the genuine concern that tinged his boyfriend’s tone.

“Already on it! They’ll be fine!” He yelled back, sliding the door open and relishing in the sudden sharp breeze of cool night air and the scent of fresh grass. “Octavia! Kino, Archie! Get in here!” After a couple of seconds, the clattering of paws on wood and tile filled the air and all three dogs went streaking past Smitty into the kitchen, panting and wagging their tails excitedly. The Canadian rolled his eyes as he shut the door and turned, already crouching to greet the animals fondly. 

“Yes, yes, I know, I’m very sweet,” He grumbled good naturedly, shying away from a particularly nasty lick on his cheek and a cold nose against his own. “Alright, that’s enough, go bother your other daddy, give him a piece of your minds.” 

The pets paid no attention to his words, not that Smitty had really expected them to, but the sudden ring of the doorbell through the house set all three dogs off in a flurry of claws and barks as they rushed towards the front door. 

“I got it!” Tyler yelled from somewhere else in the house, and Smitty slowed his pace to a walk as he ducked through the hallway and into the living room. He was greeted by the sight of an exasperated Tyler trying to fend off three dogs with one arm while answering the door; the painted wooden one opened in, and the glass wind-barrier still securely shut. 

Smitty reached out and snagged Octavia around the middle, scooping her up in his arms and reaching out to tug an enthusiastic Kino to the side. Tyler flashed him a grateful smile and then gestured apologetically towards the dogs at the giggling trick-or-treater on the other side of the door, watching them both with amusement. 

Smitty herded the dogs away as Tyler finally cracked the door open enough to slip a handful of candy through, and a fond smile spread over his face when his boyfriend’s warm voice washed over the room; smooth and sweet and patient with the little girl who was more than happy to cheer about the dogs and her knight costume. 

He turned around and leaned against the wall once the dogs were subdued, eyeing Tyler’s large frame crouched down by the door to meet their small visitor’s level, the cautious tone at which he kept his voice and the way he smiled at the girls obvious enthusiasm. 

Smitty didn’t quite realize he was staring, enraptured, until the trick-or-treater waved cheerfully and ran off with a ‘Happy Halloween!’ and Tyler had risen to his feet, had turned around and was glancing at Smitty curiously. 

“What?” The tall man asked, a faint coloring to his cheeks, and Smitty’s voice felt stuck in his throat, clogged with a sudden emotion he hadn't expected. His silence must’ve been noticeable because Tyler set the candy down and fully turned his attention onto his boyfriend, a frown pulling at his lips. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Smitty promised in a rush, a sudden exhale of breath, and then he was moving forward and pressing his hands to Tyler’s cheeks, letting their bodies fit together and he kissed him; one sudden, firm press of their lips together before he pulled back with a smile. 

“I love you.” 

Tyler was certainly blushing now, red and smiling smugly, and his large arms moved to encircle Smitty’s waist, to hold them together casually. 

“Well. I knew that,” He laughed, and Smitty smacked him lightly, fondly. 

“Asshole.” 

Tyler’s nose nuzzled idly against the top of Smitty’s head, and the Canadian leaned forward to rest his cheek against his boyfriend’s chest, feeling the gentle thud of a heartbeat warm against his skin. 

Then the doorbell was ringing, sharp and shrill and the moment was ruined, Tyler stepping back with a laugh. 

“I guess we better get used to that,” The taller joked, and Smitty stepped back to calm the dogs once more as Tyler reached for the doorknob. 

After herding the stubborn animals out of the way, Smitty glanced over his shoulder at his boyfriend, and decided maybe he wouldn’t mind getting interrupted at all, if he saw this gentle, soft side of Tyler all night long. 

He thought idly of the ring securely tucked away in the upper corner of his dresser, and smiled when Tyler glanced up to meet his eyes, grinning. 

Yeah, he was quite alright with this. 

Smitty went to go finish his cider, the doorbell ringing out once more, and laughed quietly at his boyfriend’s faint, exasperated sigh.

Maybe he should tell John to buy a suit.

After all, he would kind of need one to best best man at a wedding. 

Octavia blinked up at Smitty, wide-eyed from the kitchen floor, and her owner grinned down at her smugly. 

“Too soon?” He asked, chucking lightly. She growled low in her chest, and he only laughed harder. “Yes, alright, I get it. He’s a keeper.” 

“Who’s a keeper?” came Tyler’s voice, and Smitty spun on his heels to greet him, grinning widely. 

“Oh no one,” He teased, and Tyler gave him the stink eye before heading towards the sink. Smitty leaned against the table and watched him, arms crossed and expression calm as his boyfriend passed a towel between two dripping hands. Smitty thought of sweet smiles and a gentle voice; passionate rage and undetering focus. His heart burned. 

“What would you say if I asked you to marry me?” Smitty blurted, impulsive and reckless, and Tyler’s back went rigid, like all the air had suddenly been sucked from his body. 

“I, uh- I-,” Tyler stuttered, before clearing his throat and turning around, towel dropped haphazardly on the counter. “Are you- serious?” He blinked at Smitty dumbly, face a bright red, and the Canadian could feel his own cheeks heating. 

“Well, I- I mean, I’m not doing this right, I swear, I was planning on being a lot more prepared but- hey, I can go get the ring from upstairs if you want,” Smitty offered, blunt and nervously chuckling and more than a little flustered because Tyler was staring at him slack jawed, face aflame and expression flabbergasted. 

“No- I mean yes- I mean no, you’re fucking fine, jesus, don’t go get a ring _now,_ it’s a little late for that. Holy shit,” Tyler spit through his shock, and the familiar, rambling words struck a chord deep in Smitty’s heart and boosted his confidence enough for the Canadian to move forward and take one of his boyfriend’s hands between his own. 

“I want to marry you,” He swore, seriously and quietly, staring those vibrant blue eyes down with the kind of certainty you only got once in a lifetime. Tyler blinked at him once, twice, then tore his gaze away, a strangled laugh bubbling out of his throat and Smitty realized with a start that there was wetness dripping down onto their clasped fingers. 

“You can’t just _do that_ to a man!” Tyler blurted, voice shaking with emotion, and then Smitty was laughing, joyful and free because that was as perfect a ‘yes’ as he ever could have asked for. His arm reached out to wipe at Tyler’s eyes with his sleeve, and the taller smiled down at him, watery and shaky, but expression bright with exhilaration. 

“You realize I still have to give out candy after that bombshell,” he complained, voice growing stronger and more like his normal tone. Smitty laughed before pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Tyler’s mouth, one hand cupping his cheek lightly. The doorbell rang, and Tyler threw his arms out in a ‘you see?’ kind of gesture. 

“I have to get your ring from upstairs anyways,” Smitty giggled, giddy, and watched with satisfaction as color flooded Tyler’s face and the man turned away, one palm raising to scrub his eyes. 

“How long have you had that?” The man croaked, heading towards the front door, and Smitty trailed after him smugly. 

“John helped me pick it out a month ago.” 

He watched with satisfaction as Tyler stopped dead and gaped at him, before shaking his head with wonder and once against making his way towards the insistent knocking on the front door. 

“That really just happened, holy fucking shit,” Smitty heard him mumble under his breath once Smitty had headed away from the enterance hall and towards the stairs, and he smiled fondly at the undisguised affection in his boyfriend’s words, then the attempt at normality when he answered the door and greeted a bunch of loud, over-eager kids. 

Smitty paused at the top of the stairs, leaned over the railing and watched Tyler hold out a bag of candy to a particularly shy little boy, and wait patiently as the kid chose one and before giving the tall man a hesitant smile, which was returned gently. 

Smitty watched the pale, unadorned skin of Tyler’s left hand when he placed the bowl back, and shut the door. 

No, he didn’t regret this one bit. Smitty pulled back and headed into their bedroom, making a beeline towards his dresser. 

He really did need to call John.


	4. Krynoss

"Hey, John?" Evan calls, sticking his head out of his office door. 

"Yeah?" John responds from where he's standing in the kitchen. 

"We bought Halloween candy to give out, right?"

"Hell yeah we did," John answers. "We bought two full-ass bags of it." 

“Okay, you should probably open one of them soon because the official trick or treating times for this neighborhood is in like….10 minutes?” 

Evan hears a faint “fuck” from the kitchen and laughs softly to himself. 

“Okay, can you finish dinner, then? I don’t want the pasta to overcook.” John calls. 

“Course.” Evan replies, hitting ‘save’ on his work and taking his headphones off. He walks out of his office and down the hallway, smiling ever so slightly when he sees John, humming a soft tune and bobbing his head; he’s turned to the stove and doesn’t see Evan walk in. 

To his credit, he only jumps a little when Evan wraps his arms around his waist and places a kiss to his jaw. 

“Hi.” John says, tone light and cheerful.

“Hi.” Evan replies. “What’re you making?” 

“E-Boy spaghetti.” 

Evan chokes on a laugh. “E-Boy spaghetti?” 

“I used food colouring to dye the noodles black.”

Evan muffles his laugh by hiding his face in the hood of John’s sweatshirt. 

“It’s Halloween! They’re spooky noodles!” John defends. Evan just hums his approval and places another kiss to John’s cheek before removing his arms from John’s waist and moving next to him. 

“All you gotta do is strain it when the timer goes off, yeah?” John says, handing Evan the wooden spoon. “I’m gonna go set up the candy and turn on the porch light.” 

“Got it,” Evan says, taking the spoon and looking at the timer to see how much longer it has. Only five minutes. Good, he’s starving. 

The ring of the doorbell sounds throughout the house, and Evan can hear the click of John’s boots as he walks across the floor and opens the door. A chorus of “Trick or Treat!” sounds from the front room and Evan smiles when he hears John make cheerful conversation, handing out candy and complimenting costumes. 

The shrill beep of the timer startles him out of his thoughts, and he stops it and turns off the stove, placing the spoon down. Picking the pot up and tipping it into the strainer, he watches the steam billow up and is vaguely reminded of a night last summer, one with friends and fireworks and conversation through clouds of vape smoke. 

He sets the pot in the sink to wash later, and transfers the pasta from the strainer to the plates John had set out previously. Homemade tomato sauce is poured over the servings, and Evan has to laugh at how “Halloween-y” the pasta looks, with the red sauce and black noodles. 

John walks back into the room, setting the candy bowl down on the table and laughing when he sees the pasta. 

“See, it’s E-Boy pasta!” John says, grabbing his plate and opening the drawer for a fork. 

“Fitting.” Evan says dryly, but he’s grinning. 

“Are you calling me an e-boy?” John asks in mock offense. 

“Yes, yes I am.” Evan replies. “The cutest E-Boy of them all.” 

John blushes at this, and Evan smiles as he plants a kiss on John’s cheek, making his face flush even redder. 

John grabs the bowl of Halloween candy off of the table as they take their plates into the front room, ready for a slew of kids in all kinds of costumes. 

Over the next two hours, they eat their dinner and periodically answer the door to hand out candy. Well, it’s mostly John handing out candy, kneeling down and talking softly to the toddlers and making energetic conversation with the older kids. 

Evan watches John interact with the trick-or-treaters with a find smile on his face and a warm feeling in his heart. He couldn’t be any more in love, he really couldn’t. 

Once the sky is significantly darker, the candy bowl is nearly empty and the two of them are shivering every time they open the door, they decide to turn off their porch light and call it done. 

Evan stands up, shivering slightly and picking up the empty plates and the candy bowl, carrying them to the kitchen and placing the plates in the sink; the bowl on the counter. 

“Hey, Ev?” John calls from the hallway. 

“Yeah?”

“What are your feelings on a Halloween movie marathon?” 

“My feelings are positive for a Halloween movie marathon.” 

John comes walking into the kitchen, grinning. “Epic.” 

Evan can’t help but grin, and he loops his fingers through John’s belt loops and pulls him close, kissing him. John hums softly, placing his hands on Evan’s jaw and returning the kiss. 

“Love you.” Evan’s voice is barely a whisper. 

“Love you too.” John says, placing feather-light kisses all over Evan’s face. 

They stand there, in the kitchen, wrapped in each other’s arms and warm and content and oh so happy. 

Evan breaks the soft silence by asking “Can we watch Nightmare Before Christmas?” 

John laughs, his smile lighting a fire in Evan’s heart. 

“Of course we can.” 

Evan places a light kiss on the tip of his nose, and giggles when he scrunches it up. 

"I'll find the movie and get blankets, you make popcorn and cider?" Evan suggests, untangling his fingers from John's belt loops. John makes a noise of affirmation, and they head in separate ways. 

10 minutes later, they're cuddled together under a blanket, Evan in John's lap and steaming mugs of cider and a bowl of popcorn are on the table. The lights are off and the movie is playing, casting the whole room in a soft, flickering glow. They sip their cider and munch on popcorn, trying to toss pieces into their mouths and giggling when they miss. 

John whines when Evan says he has to get up and switch the movie out to Beetlejuice, wrapping his arms tighter around Evan's middle. Evan tries to wriggle his way out, but John's grip is surprisingly strong. He tries to pry John's fingers away, but to no avail. 

"Don' leave. You're warm." John grumbles. Evan laughs and presses a kiss to John's cheek before he brings his arms around and starts tickling him, effectively making John laugh and let go. Evan jumps up and strides across the room to the dvd player before John can grab him and pull him back in, and switches out the dvds as quick as he can. 

John pulls him back onto his lap as soon as he can, Evan's knees on either side of John. John tangles his hands in Evan's hair and pulls him into a kiss, thumb moving slowly on the back of Evan's neck. 

Eventually, they pull away, and Evan places one last peck to John's forehead before turning around and returning to his original position. 

Evan presses play on the remote and leans back into John, relaxing into the warmth and the feeling of John playing with his hair. 

He might fall asleep. He's just so content. 

Next thing he knows, he's blinking his eyes open and the credits for Beetlejuice are rolling. 

"...Did I fall asleep?" He asks, tiredly. 

"You did." John confirms. He sounds tired as well, his voice taking on a rough edge. 

"Time to call it a night?" Evan asks. He's met with a yawn and a tired murmur of affirmation. Evan laughs quietly and sits up, getting up from the couch and grabbing the long-since-empty mugs of cider and popcorn bowl. They're quickly placed in the sink alongside all of the other dishes from that night, and then he returns to the living room to find John stretched out on the couch, blanket pulled up to his chin and nearly asleep. 

Evan's heart melts at the sight. He's just so damn _cute._

"John...hon, you don't wanna sleep on the couch. Promise." Evan says. He kneels down in front of the couch next to John's head and starts combing his fingers through John's hair softly. "C'mon."

John sits up slowly, taking in Evan's silhouetted form next to him and sighing. 

"Carry me?" John says, pouting slightly and eyes drooping with sleep. 

Evan can't say no. He just smiles and loops one arm under John's knees and the other around his back and tries to not combust when John nuzzles his head into the curve of Evan's neck. He carries John through the quiet house to their bedroom and lays him down on the bed gently, pulling the covers up over his hips. 

Yawning, he pulls his sweatshirt off and places his hat in the closet, then climbs under the covers to join John. 

His eyelids are heavy, and right as he's about to drift off to sleep, a thought passes through his mind. 

"Hey, John?" He whispers. 

"Mmm?" 

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

John opens his eyes slowly, looking Evan in the eye; his gaze is kind and comforting; it gives Evan such a feeling of _home_ and _love_ that he almost can't stand it. 

"Why do you ask?"

"Cause I love you so much that it hurts sometimes. Because you remind me of home and warmth and comfort and being loved. Because you have the most goddamn adorable smile and when you so much as kiss my cheek or grab my arm I get goosebumps and I think my heart's going to beat out of my chest."

John is silent for a moment, and when Evan looks up, his eyes are wet. 

"Fuck, Evan, I love you too. So much, _fuck._ You're so kind and so caring and you always remember the littlest details about everyone and you won't hesitate to help someone out, no matter the problem, and _fuck,_ you're _perfect._" 

Evan smiles, bashfully ducking his head. 

"So, to answer your question: yes, I absolutely believe in soulmates, and I believe that you're mine and I'm yours." John answers. "I love you, Evan Fong." 

"I love you too, John Keyes." 

John's arm wraps around Evan's waist and pulls him close, the other arm reaching up to cup Evan's face and place a soft kiss to his lips. 

Evan smiles, turning his head to kiss the palm of John's hand before tucking his head under John's chin. 

The wind howls and the rain pours down outside, but the warmth of their bodies and of their love is more than enough, and they're asleep in minutes. 

Evan's last thought before he falls asleep is _I really need to get him a ring._


End file.
